Wanna Make Mischief
by Desidera
Summary: Something small and happy. No real slash (depends on the reader's interpretation). Well. Is there anyone who doesn't adore little hobbit boys getting themselves into mischief?


**Author's Notes**:

Just something small and happy. No real slash. Yes, I am a slash authoress but I leave the interpretation of the last part up to you. This is especially for the reviewers of my first published LotR fic, who liked it and asked for more. Have fun.

(I guess 'make mischief' is not the correct term, but the speaker's so young he maybe doesn't know better than some german writer without a proper modern dictionary.)

**Disclaimer**:  
Highly esteemed Mister Tolkien,

I would never claim any of those wonderful characters, landscapes, names and places mine. All yours. Thanks for creating them.

Mighty New Line Cinema,

I borrowed Pippin's looks and whatever else. No harm will come to them, except maybe some ruffled hair. In the heat of battle. You know.

**Wanna Make Mischief?**

When the sun was slowly setting over Buckland, making the shadows of the Old Forest stand out more deeply against the red and orange sky, the tables in the garden were loaden with food and drink.

Just as is should be, the hobbits thought, gazing hungrily at it, despite having already had two rich meals and two snacks today and despite nicking juicy apples from the trees and collecting berries in the fields.

But the Master of Buckland still had to hold his little speech. Fortunately for the insatiable crowd he didn't have much to say:

"My dear kin and folk from Buckland, the Thain and all his kin and folk from Tookborough and of course all other guests from Bywater, Hobbiton or else! Look at the beautiful sunset over the hills! Verily, this is how the land honours all our tireless work on the day of our harvest home." The sight was in fact beautiful, and all hobbits nodded approvingly, feeling they had truly deserved this beauty and of course the food, no matter if they had actually taken part in the tireless work or rather slept under a tree.

"So let's not wait any longer and celebrate the generous harvest by generous feasting on full tables!"

With cheers and exclamations the guests gathered round the tables, eyes shining with expectation. The plates were served.

Merry stood next to his father, gazing at him with proud amazement. His Daddy was wonderful! A truly important hobbit! He hoped to be like his Dad some day. When he was big.

He tried to appear as graceful and dignified as possible as he strode after his father to take his seat next to him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his father. They way he ate and kept his waistcoat impossibly unstained. The way he held his knife. The way he always sat straight and upright.

Merry drew himself up, took his knife into his right hand, four fingers bent, the fifth streched out to rest on the kife's hilt, and concentrated hard not to spill anything or make a mess.

After half an hour of joyful eating – Merry's waistcoat was still clean! – he suddenly felt a tug on his breeches. Startled, he dropped his spoon. Mushroom soup left a nice stain on the green fabric, earning him a half-hearted "Meriadoc!" from his mother.

For a second the young hobbit sat unmoving, shocked, then he lifted the tablecloth, revealing bright-shining, forest-green eyes, rosy cheeks and an unruly mop of maroon curls.

They stared at each other, then Merry hissed,

"What are you doing down there?"

"Am bored"

The little hobbit boy under the table explained curtly, then he tilted his head, examining Merry carefully.

"What?"

Merry asked, not having forgotten the spoonful of mushroom soup. After he had tried so hard to avoid any stains...

The other seemed a lot younger than him and it gave Merry a strange satisfaction to know that. Hey, he was a baby still, while Merry himself. Well, he was in his teens already!

Nonetheless he couldn't help but like the other's wide grin when he was done with the examination and spoke again,

"Wanna make mischief?"

Merry looked at the little one, having judged him far too little for anything interesting, and yet there was impishness sparkling in his eyes the kind of which Merry had not seen in his dearest cousin's looks, nor in the elder boys', nor in anyone else's ever.

Quickly, Merry analyzed the situation. Certainly his aunties had already discovered his stained waistcoat, so there was no way to make them believe in the Cute Little Boy Act tonight. They weren't fooled that easily. No use staying at the table then!

He nodded curtly, winking at the little one and motioning him to follow, then he stood up as if to get himself some more water and quickly vanished in the bushes. Hiding there he watched the table to see where the little boy would come out under the tablecloth. Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder and he almost jumped with surprise. Behind him the little hobbit giggled.

Merry scowled at him for startling him a second time today but found that he couldn't really be angry with those large innocent puppy eyes. Oh! That truly was a gift! Merry's mind came up with thousands of ideas how they could use that particular look on his aunties.

Let's see, Merry thought and followed the boy into the undergrowth to make plans......

* * *

An hour later the garden was in an uproar.

Ruby Bolger and Hilda Bracegirdle were crying because they had been frightened by big red eyed pumpkins in the dark.

Maramac, joined by a large number of friends and cousins, was in the little wood next to the Hill in a chase after his pony that had somehow gotten loose from its bindings.

Father Adelard was desperately searching for his pipe, not noticing that it was sticking on his old hat.

Two of three teapots had been filled with quite a strong wine, and those who had already had a few mugs of beer and hadn't been able to distinguish between the drinks they took could be counted very well judging by their staggering around in the fruit plantations or next to the river. Others had to keep them from becoming acquainted with the water.

And on top of that the biggest cake had been nicked right out of the kitchen of the Mistress of Buckland.

"Meriadoc!"

the Master of Buckland called sternly.

"Peregrin!"

the Took and Thain exclaimed angrily.

Two giggling hobbit lads were watching the success of their labours out of the huge oak tree, munching their cake with delight.

Smiling at the fiendish little imp next to him Merry decided that he had to keep him around. Maybe hide him in his bedroom. Somewhere they couldn't take him away from him.

Maybe forever. After all he still had to test the effect of those eyes on his aunties.

* * *

Smiling, the Master of Buckland returned from his memories, sitting peacefully under the old oak tree. He realized that even though that same evening their relatives had taken the little boy with them to Tookborough, although he had lost him and found him again in the deepest shadow of the world, he had somehow achieved what he had wished back then.

Because, at that moment the Took and Thain came riding up the Hill, singing happily and almost bouncing with energy and laughter.

Merry looked around. Estella was busy with a few of her cousins, picking flowers in the fields. He smiled lovingly. Then he turned to the path that went up the Hill and vacated the comfortably cool shadows under the tree.

The pony stopped and the Thain jumped of, still smiling that impish smile of his that no dark day, no grief, no fear, no hard labour had been able to take away forever.  
The Master of Buckland smiled back. Then he took a step backwards, raised his eyebrow slightly and asked,

"What are you doing here?"

The answer was simple and only the two of them understood its true meaning.

"Am bored. Wanna make mischief?"

Merry laughed out loud and embraced the Thain happily.

"But of course. I have plans already."

"Oh? Tell me."

"Just you wait and see, Pip, my dear. Just you wait."


End file.
